


What is Profound

by thompsonitis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Seer Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thompsonitis/pseuds/thompsonitis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The future, the present, the past. In the end, it's all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What is Profound

**Author's Note:**

> Done in revenge for something thetinysheep wrote. Seer!Harry. Prob gonna be really sporadic and short in length, and possibly won't be updated in quite awhile. Originally posted on tumblr.

He's eleven and the world is an open book in front of him.

He says that, but the world is an open book that won't let him turn the pages. He can only see the pages shown to him. Has to see what that page holds and cannot look away for the life of him, even if it will leave him crying quietly into his pillow in the middle of the night, until it's over. His visions, that is.

He's eleven and he's been able to see the future for as long as he can remember, and all he gets for his gift is a small room and the honour of being ignored by his relatives, so long as he tells them about the visions he gets that effect them specifically.

Eleven, and with little to his name other than a gift he has to hide, and waiting for a letter from Hogwarts at seven in the morning.

He's sitting quietly on the first step of the stairs and staring intently at the door. Soon, he knows, his letter will arrive. And soon after that, after a few days, someone would come through that door, because he has no owl to send back with the letter. Terrible planning on their part, he thinks to himself some days, when he dwells on it for longer than he should.

But that is the future, and right now, he's sitting on the uncomfortable wooden stairs, index finger tracing patterns onto the step beneath him. It's cold, but he doesn't dare go back to his room to fetch a sweater.

He's been waiting for this day since he was nine, and in a rush of frantic colour, he saw a giant of a man, the large, hooked nose of a goblin as it leered down at him, blonde hair, red hair, and a castle, looming in the night, a leviathan of stone and light, beckoning.

He can almost see it now, blurry as the memory is. Home.

The mail arrives just as his aunt is coming downstairs.

He fetches what he's after, tucking it wordlessly into the waistband of his ragged pajama bottoms, and kindly takes the rest of the mail to the kitchen table. His aunt follow after him, eyes squinting at him suspiciously until she catches sight of the calender.

"Hogwarts?" She says. Hisses the name under her breath like its a curse.

He doesn't even have to say anything- she nods sharply and sweeps around him to begin breakfast. He goes back up to his room, puts the letter in his little hiding spot underneath the loose floorboard, and then comes back downstairs to help. Quietly, because his uncle and cousin are still asleep.

"I'll tell Vernon that  _your_  kind is going to come soon. Tonight." Aunt Petunia says, a little later. "You better not come out of your room after dinner."

He already knew that she would say that, but he knows better than to tell her.


End file.
